Thursday, July 29, 2010

The combination of having a one year old and being 28 weeks pregnant means I don’t get out much. With back pain and edema currently rocking my world, my life of late has been lived from the recliner. Which may sound lame, but is actually AWESOME. Here’s just one reason why.

The Bachelorette.

Yes, my favorite reality crap-fest is back for another installment. This time around, Bachelorette Ali has been looking for love all over the world, from Istanbul, Turkey, to Kirk’s Dad’s dead-animal-filled basement. I don’t know if Ali found love, but she sure found drama.

On the first episode, we meet a Bachelor named “Shooter,” who decides to explain to Ali just how he got that nickname. On national television. And yes, it’s exactly the reason you think it is. Surprisingly, Shooter doesn’t get the first impression rose, or any rose at all, for that matter.

Then we have the feuding between Craig M. and The Weatherman. Craig M. looks like a broke Bradley Cooper, and The Weatherman looks like a miniature Kerr Smith. Craig M. is a bully who talks big talk to the guys and likes to pick on the little Weatherman. The Weatherman is a whiny little guy who cries to Ali when Craig is mean to him, and he enjoys using weather metaphors WAY too much. Ali sends Craig home when he fails to form a coherent sentence during their one-on-one time. The next week she sends The Weatherman home because he is annoying as hell.

Definitely not Jack McFee.

Know what is even better than annoying? Krazy. As in Krazy Kasey. Kasey is there to guard and protect Ali’s heart. How do I know this? Because Kasey says it a thousand times. To Ali. To Chris Harrison. To the guys. To the television audience. To anyone who will listen. After a horrible one-on-one date that involves Kasey singing made up love songs in the style of an American Idol reject, Ali remains unconvinced. This is when Kasey realizes he has to step up his game if he wants to guard and protect Ali’s heart. So what does he decide to do? He gets a TATTOO. Of a SHIELD guarding and protecting a HEART. ALI’S HEART. Because if you haven’t yet noticed, he wants to GUARD AND PROTECT HER HEART. Kasey shows the other guys, who are all in shock. No one mentions that it is absolutely insane to get a tattoo for a girl that is dating like 12 other guys besides you on a reality show. Not to mention totally kreepy. Kasey is scared to show Ali his tattoo, but he finally whips it out (ha!) during a two-on-one date. A date on which, if Kasey doesn’t get the rose, he goes home right then and there. Did I mention this date was on a glacier in Iceland? Because it totally is. So Kasey shows Ali the tattoo, and she barely manages to not look completely horrified. Barely. Obviously, Ali gives the rose to the other guy on the date, and he and Ali fly away – LEAVING KASEY ALL ALONE ON A GLACIER IN THE MIDDLE OF ICELAND. TO DIE. Ok, not the death part. But believe me when I tell you it was totally awesome. Best. Dumping. Ever.

Kasey puts the K in StalKer.

The “other guy” on the glacier date was Justin, who was not krazy like Kasey, but he’s definitely in the running for “Douchebag of the Year.” Justin is a professional wrestler in Canada, going by the name “Rated-R.” On the first night, the guys voted Justin the one who was “not there for the right reasons” (meaning he was only there to further his career), but Ali decided to keep him around anyway. Bad move, Ali. Turns out, Justin was not only there for the wrong reasons, he had a girlfriend back home who agreed to let him go on the show so he could become famous (like all those other people who became world famous after going on The Bachelorette). But when Justin’s girlfriend Jessica learned about Justin’s OTHER girlfriend, Jessica decided to cal shenanigans on the whole thing, and informed the show’s producers of the whole mess. Complete with the sappy voice mails he left her while he was “falling in love” with Ali. But that’s not the best part. The best part is when Ali calls him out on it. Big, tough Justin does what any hardcore wrestling guy would do: he runs away. Runs outside, climbs through shrubbery and THROUGH A FOUNTAIN. While wearing an air cast, no less. He finally comes back to talk to Ali, and tries to deny doing anything wrong without actually calling his girlfriend a liar. Doesn’t go well.

Awesome.

The remaining four guys get hometown dates, which means Ali meets the family. Which is great, unless you are Kirk and you have a slightly creepy dad. You know it’s going to be awesome when Kirk’s dad says, “Ali, do you want to see my basement?” No, he doesn’t make her into a lampshade. But he does like to stuff dead animals. And hang them on the walls. All over the damn place. Oh, and we have some frozen dead animals here in the freezer, next to the pudding pops. Not at all weird. Now I have to confess, that as the daughter of a hunter, we would occasionally have some weird meats in the freezer along with the frozen corn and bomb pops (squirrel, anyone?), but it wasn’t the whole dead animal, fur and all. What if they come back to life and seek revenge? But I digress. Kirk’s family is really a pretty nice group, but Kirk still gets the boot, leaving Roberto, Chris, and Frank.

Sorry, Kirk. Perhaps Dad has a stuffed moose you can cuddle with.

Frank. Stupid effing Frank. Frank paints a picture of himself as this romantic, adventurous guy who left his cushy hedge fund job to live in Paris for awhile and pursue his dream of becoming a screenwriter. Frank is actually an aging hipster who now works as a “retail manager” and lives in his parents’ basement. He wears hipster glasses and his granmother’s cardigans (ironically, of course) and I pretty much hate his guts. Frank is the definition of “trying too hard.” Frank lays in bed at night and dreams of being Rob Gordon from High Fidelity. Well, you sir, are no Rob Gordon. You aren’t even Dick or Barry. And I hate you.

Die.

Ali, however, is really into Frank. He goes on the first one-on-one date with Ali and they smooch under the Hollywood sign. They go on another one-on-one in Turkey and he buys her a carpet? I don’t know why. Ali loves Frank, loves his family on the hometown date, and can’t wait to see Frank and do him in the Fantasy Suite in Tahiti.

But wait! Hipster Frank isn’t content to just fall in love. There must be ANGST! Frank is apparently still having feelings for his ex Nicole. He must go to Chicago RIGHT NOW to see if they still have something. He visits Nicole and realizes that while Ali is hot, he needs the guarantee of someone local because he is damn sick of living with mom and dad. So he professes his twue wuv to Nicole. But his work is not done. He must now fly to Tahiti to burst Ali’s Fantasy Suite bubble. I can’t really blame Frank at this point; Ali has already had her other two overnight sex dates, and who wants sloppy thirds.

Ali is heartbroken when she hears the news and there is all kinds of ugly crying and such, and Frank leaves, full of ANGST at having to break Ali’s heart. Ali gets her crap together and lets her remaining two men, Chris and Roberto, know that she is there FOR THEM. Because this show is all about finding love, and not about creating famewhores. Right, Bob Guiney? Right, Melissa Rycroft?

So who will Ali choose? Well, we have Roberto, who has the hotness trifecta:

• Latin• Dimples• BASEBALL PLAYER

And then we have Chris, who is adorable, ripped, and seems pretty down-to-earth, despite the fact that his mom died about a year ago. A storyline that the producers have beaten. In. to. The. Ground.

For once, I really like both of the final two, and think Ali has a tough decision on her hands. Not that this show is in any way real, but you know, suspension of disbelief and all that. Rumor has it that Ali doesn’t up with either guy, though. All I know is that I will be watching the finale on Monday, ready for some more ABC created drama! And I will probably be reading the Television Without Pity message boards several times daily to overanalyze Ali’s outfit choices, and then checking out Reality Steve for new spoilers. Not that I am into this show or anything.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

I have seen lots of other expectant mom bloggers use this format, so I thought I would do the same to let everyone know how things are going.

How Far Along: 26 Weeks! Two weeks away from the third trimester.

How Big is the Baby: According to Babycenter.com, the baby weighs about a pound and two thirds, and is fourteen inches long, which is comparable to the length of an English hothouse cucumber. That means absolutely nothing to me.

Total Weight Gain: Kind of tough to say. I have gained back the weight I lost in the first trimester, so I am back to the weight I was when I got pregnant. So I have either gained fifteen pounds or haven't gained anything. I hate math.

Maternity Clothes: They are the only thing I can wear outside of big t-shirts. I have one pair of regular jeans I can still squeeze in to, but I don't think that is going to last for long.

Stretch Marks: Ugh. Yes, of course. Despite a psychotic lotion regiment, I got a lot of stretch marks when I was pregnant with the Peanut. They have reappeared in all of their red, rippling glory. Sexy.

Sleep: Pretty good. Occasionally I will wake up with bad heartburn, but most of the time I am still sleeping well. I expect this to change in a few weeks; I was up from 3:30 to 6:30 am every morning towards the end of my last pregnancy.

Movement: Yep! I love it. Baby is usually moving when I am still. Another night owl, at least in utero.

Food Cravings: Anything ice cream related.

What I Miss: Flip flops. The edema in my ankles is keeping me from wearing them.

What I’m Looking Forward To: Having the baby! Obvious, I know, but I want to meet the little Pumpkin

Milestones: Almost to the third trimester, and I can say with all confidence after viewing our last ultrasound that it's a ... BOY!

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

My last (long ago) blog post was about trying to figure out what to do in regards to my job. If you recall, my heart's desire is to be able to be at home with my kids. However, I also enjoy doing things like living indoors and eating food. Right now, that's still not an option, but things are improving on the job front.

June had me traveling all over the midwest for work. Every week, I was driving or flying somewhere else to give presentations. The presentations were proving to be successful, so they continued with no end in sight. I finally decided I couldn't take it anymore.

I knew I had to talk to my boss about the situation, but I didn't want to just go in to him and complain, so the Hubs and I talked for a long time and brainstormed possible solutions. I scheduled a time to meet with my boss, and went in with A Plan.

I opened by sharing how much I love my job, and how passionate I am about our organization. I thanked my boss for his flexibility and the opportunities he has provided for me over the years. I then explained the toll that extended travel was taking on my family, and on myself physically. I then suggested that I train another staff member to do what I am doing with the presentations, and in return I would pick up some of that staff member's duties in the office. I recommended one person in particular, but told him I would be happy to train anyone he thought fit for the task. Then I held my breath.

Thankfully, he thought this was a great idea! I will go with my co-worker on a trip next week to see how she does, and then I am officially a non-traveler. It's not quite staying at home, but I am thrilled about the change.

I am sad to say that during the past month I basically abandoned my blog, and the blog world in general. Between the travel, being pregnant, taking care of the Peanut, and trying to spend time with the Hubs, I just couldn't do it. I contemplated just leaving this blog behind - I was afraid it had been too long. But I couldn't do it. If nothing else, it helps me connect to some really awesome people that I wouldn't know otherwise. I will be trying my hardest to post at least once a week, but have mercy on me if it's not quite that frequent. And since I am swelling up like a blimp, expect lots of pregnancy updates.

Speaking of, we found out the gender of our little Pumpkin...anyone have any guesses?

Thursday, May 27, 2010

FYI - I may have seen that Britney Spears movie...in the theater. It's possible.

Remember that business trip I had? The one that nearly wiped me out? Well, it went so well that they sent me on another one. And they want to do more. So all of the sudden my minimal travel position has become a 50% travel position. Not cool.

I'm at a weird point right now with work. I love what I do, but I don't love what my position has become. My employer has made it clear that this is now what my job entails, and I can take it or leave it. I feel like I have no other choice but to take it, but I really want to leave it.

I am quietly exploring my options for working from home in a way that would be minimally financially damaging to my family. I hate the guilt trip I get from work when I have to stay home with a sick child or go to a doctor appointment. I don't like feeling bad for putting my family first. However, right now our financial situation won't allow for me to be a full time wife and mother without another source of income. I am hoping I can find that middle ground.

It's so funny how our priorities change. In my early 20s, I was completely career-obsessed. I am still driven by work; I love knowing I have done well at my job. But as I cuddle my son (who is currently feverish and covered in a horrible rash), I realize that it's ok to put the laptop down sometimes. There are things more important and more fulfilling than work. I just hope I can find a middle ground between the two.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Yeah, I know. It's been awhile. I haven't necessarily been terribly busy...just terribly tired. The last week of April I went on a business trip that kicked my butt. Too far, too much hassle, too long away from my family. We're also in the process of buying a minivan (sigh), which has been far more stressful than it needs to be.

The Peanut is rapidly approaching his first birthday, and he's doing great. I think sometimes in my attempt not to be a scary mommy-blogger, I forget to tell everyone how awesome my son is. He's pretty darn awesome. He's all over the place now, learning new words every day and just generally being adorable.

We got to see The Pumpkin on an ultrasound last week, and everything looks great! The tech thinks she was able to see the gender, but we will know for sure at our next ultrasound in a few weeks. I am starting to show a little bit, but thanks to all that wonderful morning sickness, I actually weigh less now than I did before I got pregnant.

I also recently celebrated the first of many 29th birthdays. It's always an event when our crew goes out to dinner. Aside from Hubs, Peanut, and myself, you have the Bestie, OtherBestie, their husbands, and their kids (four total). Craziness. Thankfully we had an awesome server who earned every penny of the very generous tip we left him. We love you, Tim!

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Like most people my age who attended pubic school, I logged many hours in the computer lab as a kid, playing games like Carmen SanDiego and Oregon Trail on the Apple IIGS. Oregon Trail was always my favorite, mainly because I liked to plug in my friend's names and see how many of them lived until the end. Today I will be recreating this experience, using some blog friends.Let's travel the trail, shall we?

Friday, April 16, 2010

You aren't even here yet, and I already feel like you're getting the short end of the stick. Life is so busy sometimes that I don't often stop and think about the fact that you will be here in about six months. I haven't spent a lot of time dreaming about what you will look like or what gender you are. I feel really bad about that.

Things were a lot different when I was pregnant with your brother. Everything was new. I wasn't nearly as sick. I didn't already have a baby to chase. I spent a lot of time just being pregnant, talking to him and enjoying all of the new sensations. That just hasn't happened this time. It hasn't been possible. I feel terrible, because none of this is your fault. I worry that I won't have enough time for both of you once you're here, too. How the heck do I make that work? I really don't know. I guess we will all have to figure it out together.

I want you to know that even though this pregnancy is different, your dad and I still love you more than we could ever express. It may not always seem like it, but we are excited that you are coming and we can't wait to meet you. I can't wait to start feeling you move around. I can't wait to find out if we'll be buying pink or recycling blue. So don't ever doubt how I feel about you. You're my little pumpkin and you always will be.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Lately I have been putting a lot (too much?) of thought into what high school would have been like if I went to school with my favorite bloggers. My high school experience wasn't overly traumatic, but it wasn't totally awesome either. I didn't get picked on, but being a member of the Drama Club didn't exactly get me on the cool list either. I was dorky, flat-chested, and took a lot of AP classes, but I was also comfortable with who I was and didn't really care what my classmates thought of me. Truthfully, high school is actually kind of a blur to me now, possibly because of all the alcohol I drank in college.

Please keep in mind I graduated in 1999, so I have no idea what high school is like today. This is all coming to via my 90s-influenced filter.

At my lunch table: I think my main crew would have consisted of Nikki, Sadako, Amber, Alison, and Shannon. Why? Though I don't write a YA book or nostalgia blog like they do, I know from reading them that they are kindred spirits. Meaning they're book nerds, like me. And I mean that with all the love in the world! Plus, Amber would have to be my friend because she is the only other person I have ever met who has heard of the show Fifteen.

In my AP classes: You'd find Tiffani, Cecilia, and Ashley. These girls are just smart, yo. Hopefully they would let me work with them on group projects.

Editor of the newspaper:Michelle, my favorite activist! And Kim would edit the literary magazine.

Fashion icon: Tracy, for sure. Hopefully she would give me a "She's All That" style makeover. I didn't dress that bad in high school; I just looked like a refugee from a GAP explosion. My color palate ranged from khaki to navy blue, with the occasional pastel if I was feeling dangerous.

Too cool to hang out with me: LeMeh. She is totally bad ass. Also, probably Kiran, because she is so cute and talented. I like to think they would take pity on a nerd like me and let me tag along every now and then.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

It's just not for me. Not to mention getting high is really isn't a recommended recreational activity for pregnant women. But either way, I don't get down with the ganja.

Do I care if others smoke pot? Not really. I mean, I have personal opinions about recreational drug use, but honestly? What you do in your home is your business, not mine.

However, what you do in the lobby of my apartment building? Totally my business.

I was at home yesterday, sitting in my recliner and enjoying reruns of Project Runway. All of the sudden, I smelled something funny. It smelled like something was burning. I walked around our apartment to make sure nothing was on fire. Everything was normal. So far, so good.

I sat back down, and realized it kind of smelled like someone was smoking a cigarette out in our common area. Since it is prominently posted that this is a no smoking area, I was ready to go out and raise some hell.

I opened the door and...WHAM. Someone had been smoking, alright. The hallways reeked of marijuana. I could have gotten a free high just by checking my mail. This was the smell that was gradually seeping into my apartment.

Ok, this is the part where I get totally square and uncool, so bear with me. This is the lobby I walk through every day with my INFANT SON. Not to mention the unborn child relying on me for its oxygen. In just a few minutes, my husband would be coming home with my baby and passing through this very lobby, and my son was going to have to breathe this air. And I don't like it when people eff with my kid(s). So I called both our property manager and the police non-emergency line. Yes, I know. I am that crazy lady.

Both our property manager and the police officer I talked to were extremely nice. We assessed the residents of my building: two single elderly people and my family. The officer suspects that someone came over and decided our lobby was a nice, secluded place to get high. She said the smell was so strong and so concentrated in that area that she doubts it came from one of the apartments. I'm glad it's probably not one of my neighbors, but upset that someone picked my building to be their personal smoke out area.

Little do they know they messed with the wrong mama bear. Try it again and see what happens!

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

If you haven't noticed, my TMI Thursday posts have a common theme: pregnancy. There are two reasons for this:

I'm knocked up.

Pregnancy is full embarrassing TMI moments, so I have lots of material

Be sure you visit LiLu, who originated TMI Thursday. She also happens to be a hilarious and very talented writer.

Let me set the scene for you. I am finishing up at one of my early prenatal appointments. The doctor says, "Ok, I am going to bring you back in two weeks, and we will do your first ultrasound."

Awesome! First ultrasound! I can't wait.

Two weeks later, I arrive at the OBGYN's office for the big ultrasound. The nurse leads me to the ultrasound room and tells me to undress from the waist down.

Undress? I'm just having an ultrasound, right? I ask the nurse this very question.

"Oh yes, you're having a transvaginal ultrasound. The doctor will insert this into your vagina and you'll get to see your little baby."

"This" was a rather phallic looking wand attached to the machine. I started to freak out. I wasn't freaked out by the procedure itself, it was just...

When a girl knows she is going to have to show her goodies to the doctor, whether pregnant or not, she does certain things to prepare. There is maintenance that has to be done in that general region to make sure everything is looking presentable. I hadn't done any of those things. And hadn't for awhile. Things were not looking their best in that zone. In my naivete, I thought it would be like the ultrasounds I had seen on television, where they just rub a thingie on your tummy and hello, baby! And now my doctor was not only going to be looking at my unkempt private area, but poking at it with a magic wand. Awesome.

The doctor comes in, and we get down to business. He starts by putting A CONDOM on the ultrasound wand. Am I going to be having intercourse with this thing? Not cool.

The good thing about this situation is that all embarrassment was forgotten when I saw a little flicker on the screen and realized it was my baby's heartbeat. Holy crap! We were really having a baby!

So last month, I asked Tracy from Tracy on the Cheap if she would put together an affordable maternity look that I could wear to work. Tracy has the best taste, and she is great at finding deals. Plus, she's a mom, so she knows what works when you're waddling instead of walking.

Tracy posted the look right around the time I started feeling awful, so I never showed off the adorable outfit she put together for me. Please go over and check it out, and while you're at it, follow Tracy's blog! Spring, baby!

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Ok, everyone. Remember The Intern? Well, as Michael Jackson would say, she's out of my life. A couple of weeks ago she had her last day. Order was restored at work, and I went back to actually liking my job. Everything is awesome.

Little did I know, it was about to get EVEN MORE AWESOME. I arrived at work today to find the office buzzing. I tried to avoid office gossip, so I didn't pay much attention. My butt had barely hit the chair when someone burst through my door.

"Did you hear?"

Uh, no...I didn't.

"The Intern got arrested last night!"

WHAT?

Apparently, last night The Intern was arrested for public intoxication and public indecency. She was urinating on the sidewalk outside a bar.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Worst. Blogger. Ever. This blog is looking as dusty as my living room.

I'm still alive. I've been battling some fierce "morning" (all day) sickness and the general tiredness that goes along with being pregnant. Then, last week, I got the flu and was hospitalized for a few days, mainly so I could stay hydrated. I have a feeling this baby is going to be a drama queen/king.

I am home now, and back to work tomorrow. The Peanut continues to grow at an alarming rate and is now crawling all over the damn place, which adds to that general tiredness mentioned above. I am still watching reality television like it's my job, and I'm in full American Idol mode. Firmly on Team Bowersox, might I add. Despite all my personal illness, the Pumpkin seems to be doing well. We are getting close to what I call the "safe zone" as far as miscarrying goes. I lost my first pregnancy around this time in the process a couple of years ago, so I'm still a little nervous.

First of all, as predicted, my last TMI Thursday garnered my blog lots of hits from people searching for things like "sniffing panties" and "smells like pee." I am definitely proud. Secondly, I want to warn you that this one is gross, particularly if you have never had a baby. Like, for real, it's gross. So you may want to stop right here if you don't want to be scared away from giving birth.

Ok, if you're still with me, let me set the scene. I have just given birth to The Peanut, and I am both excited he's here and relieved I can stop pushing. Yay! After you pop your kid out, they set him on your tummy for a minute, but then they steal him back. They have to weigh him and do all kinds of invasive things to him. Oh, but they have a plan for you, too, mommy.

I was laying on the bed, trying in vain to see if my kid had all of his fingers and toes, when my doctor informs me he needs to stitch me up. Uh, what? I didn't have a C-section! My doctor explained that I had vaginal tearing that he needed to stitch up. I hadn't felt the tears because of my (sweet, sweet) epidural.

There are few things more embarrassing than lying on a table while someone puts stitches in your hoo-ha. While I am lying there trying to ignore what is going on, I look across the room. What's that big red thing on that table over there? Oh! THAT'S MY PLACENTA. Great. Someone is poking my girl junk with a needle while I stare at my own placenta. Nasty.

So the stitches are done, and my nurse tells me she needs to clean me up. That's more like it! I am pretty sweaty and gross after going through labor. She's not talking about scrubbing my pits, though. She proceeds to "clean up" my cha cha, doing God knows what down there, and I am so mortified. This is your job? To clean up beavs after women have given birth? I would be talking to my union or something.

So now that eighteen people have had fun with my girly parts, I finally get to hold my son. It's wonderful and magical and all the things you would expect. They take us up to our room, where I look forward to bonding with my son and maybe even getting some sleep!

Aha. Aha. Ahahahaha. I get up to the room and my new nurse informs me that I have to go pee. Into a cup that attaches to the toilet, so the nurse can measure my pee. Apparently I have to hit the magic pee number. Great. Awesome.

Here's the thing. I just had stitches. Down there. Drugs are wearing off. Pee is salty. I try to go, but my body just won't pee. It's like my bladder is saying, "Are you kidding? That is going to hurt!" I squeeze out a little bit of urine, but my nurse is not pleased.

To top it all off? I can't wipe. Instead, I have to use a squirt bottle full of warm water to clean off my stuff. Then, I have to spray my junk with a pain-relieving solution (I'm not really complaining about the spray; it was awesome. But it's still weird to spray what looks like a bottle of aerosol deodorant on your crotch). Finally, the nurse gave me some weird panties with a cool-pak to put in them.

After all of this, a nurse comes by every couple of hours to CHECK ON MY VAGINA. I have to lay on my side while she pulls down my gauze granny panties and checks my stitches and such. Again, this is your job? To inspect my damaged labia? Nurses, I don't care how much you make. You are underpaid and under appreciated.

Seriously, though, my nurses were the best and they took great care of me. I could not have asked for better. I felt so bad that they had to do things like measure my pee and check my stitches (and a bunch of other things I would never do), and they acted like it was no big deal and made me feel so comfortable. If you are a maternity nurse, you have my utmost respect. You people are angels from heaven.

As embarrassing and gross as all of this was, I had a great experience giving birth, and I can't wait to do it again. Crazy, isn't it?

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

My employer thought it would be great to hire an intern. This intern would be helping me with some administrative tasks so I could focus on bigger projects.

"Great!" I said. "Do I get to choose my intern?"

No, I would not get to choose my intern. However, I was asked what characteristics I was looking for in an intern.

"Oh, that's easy! Someone who is hard-working and takes their job seriously, even if they are not exactly getting paid for it. Someone who is dedicated and reliable. Someone who is passionate about our cause."

Let me list for you the things about which my intern is passionate:

1. Going out to clubs and getting wasted on weeknights.

2. Coming to work late and hungover, complaining about how bright the lights are.

3. Calling in sick because she's throwing up and must have "the flu."

4. Not actually doing anything.

Listen, I know I am old and boring now, but I was young once. I liked going out and having fun as much as the next girl. I also understand that being an intern is not exciting. Eight hours a day of three hole punching can be mind numbing. I get all of that.

However, it is NOT OK to come to work still drunk. I am not stupid. You don't have the flu every week, sweetie, you have the jagerbombs. When I address your performance issues, the fact that work is interfering with your social life is not a valid excuse. Oh, and FYI, asking you to wake up when you're sleeping at your cubicle and drooling all over the desk doesn't make me mean. If I were mean, I would stab you in the face with my letter opener, as I have dreamed of so many times.

How have I restrained myself from jamming office supplies into her eyeballs? There is one thing - and one thing only - that has been getting me through. You see, my lovely intern is doing this internship for college credit, and guess who gets to evaluate her? That's right. Yours truly. My evaluation will help determine her final grade. In two weeks, I will get my retribution for having to listen to her throw up in her trash can every day.

Friday, February 19, 2010

If I am highly unproductive and sleep deprived for the next couple of weeks, blame Canada. Specifically, blame Vancouver, home of the 2010 Winter Olympics.

I LOVE the Olympics. I watch everything, from ski jumping to luge to figure skating to moguls. Things that I don't care about for three years and fourty-nine weeks all of the sudden become incredibly important. I am patriotic and cheer for the American athletes, but I am also easily manipulated by NBC's athlete profiles, and will pull for anyone with a good backstory. Latvian snowboarder born with no feet now competing for gold? I'm all over that, and I'll cry when he wins.

Early in our relationship, the Hubs would complain about my Olympic obsession. That's right folks, the man who spent every weekend from September to February watching every football game possible could not fathom how I could be so into the Olympics for three weeks. Eventually, though, his love for all things competitive took over, and now he watches with me. He doesn't cry through every United States gold medal ceremony like I do, but I'll take what I can get.

Another great thing about the Olympics is the chance to form Olympic crushes. Apolo Ohno, anyone? And can we talk about the awesomeness that is Bob Costas? He's snarky, but at the same time respectful of the games and the athletes. And he's so tiny! He's like a Keebler elf, cooking up Olympic goodness in his magic tree.

And you can't have the Olympic games if you don't have some DRAMA. When a certain mouthy Russian figure skater gets beat by a completely AWESOME American skater? So satisfying! Speed skaters wiping out in the final lap? I'm on the edge of my seat. Shaun White does an amazing trick that he doesn't even NEED TO WIN? I AM PEEING IN MY PANTS!

Ahem.

Thank you, Winter Olympics, for being so awesome, and for giving me something to cheer about during the coldest, grayest time of the year.

On an unrelated note, I have been experimenting with emailing responses to my comments. Which means most of you have not been getting my responses. I think I've figured out a fix, but I apologize if you think I have been ignoring you! And thank you everyone for all of the kind words you've sent, both about my blog and about the pregnancy. You guys are as awesome as gold medal winning speed skater Shani Davis.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Yes, if you haven't figured it out, the good people at First Response tell me I am pregnant. My doctor has confirmed that to be true.

This is a good thing. A completely shocking thing, but a good thing.

Half of me is saying, "Yay! New baby! Cuteness and adorability and love love love!"

The other half of me is saying, "You are going to have two kids under the age of two. You have lost your effing mind."

A couple of months ago, we had what is called a chemical pregnancy, which is basically an early miscarriage. We hadn't been trying to conceive (we were actually trying NOT to!), but it was still kind of a tough loss. I had taken a pregnancy test the first day my period was late, and got a positive result. That night, I began bleeding and ended up losing the pregnancy.

This lead to a whole discussion with the Hubs about our chosen birth control methods, when and if we wanted more children, and how to proceed. It took us such a long time to conceive the Peanut, and we were sure it would take us just as long to conceive a second baby. We decided that once the Peanut was a year old, we would seriously start trying to conceive again. For right now we were just going to forgo birth control but not expect anything.

Well gee, what did I expect would happen?

All the same, I am excited and nervous for the Pumpkin to get here in the fall. The last miscarriage we had will make our second, so I am definitely nervous about making it through the first trimester. I would absolutely appreciate any prayers or kind thoughts you could send our way.

I have always been afraid of the "mommy blogger" label, because for me it conjures up visions of blogs with ugly layouts and graphic posts about breastfeeding and their child's bowel movements. But when I think about it, some of my favorite bloggers are moms! I mean, one of my favorite blogs of all time is Snarky Mommy, so I really need to get over it. I am a mom. I blog. This is a blog about my life, so obviously motherhood (and now pregnancy) is going to come up. I hope that you will all continue on this journey with me! But never fear, you will still get my in depth analysis of reality television on a regular basis.

I know that a lot of you who read this blog are not married with children, and I just want you to know how much I appreciate you guys reading and commenting on my crazy little life. I sometimes worry that I will bore you guys to death with my motherhood talk. My hope is that I can give you a little peak into something you haven't experienced yet, and maybe even give you something to relate to if you should end up where I am one day.

Ok, before this gets too "Very Special Episode of Blossom," let me just say that I love you all, and hope you will join me as we get ready for The Pumpkin - Coming this fall!

I am supposed to list ten things that make me happy, but at the moment I am concerned with only two words that bring me happiness - THE OLYMPICS.

Oh, one other thing that brings me much happiness? Corresponding with the people who read my blog. Please hit me up on Twitter (@isuck_atthis) and don't hesitate to send me a gchat message if you see me online (ireallysuckatthis). And you can always do things the old fashioned way and email me at ireallysuckatthis (at) gmail (dot) com, or leave a comment. I don't always respond to my comments in a timely fashion (please see blog title), but I do respond eventually, and I value every single comment!

To pass on the love, I want to mention two blogs that I can't get enough of. I know I have said it before, but I LOVE Amber at Nostomanic. She's absolutely hilarious, and I kind of want to be her BFF. But not in a weird stalker way (I promise). Another blog that is relatively new to my Google Reader line up that I am really digging is Tracy on the Cheap. If there is one thing I am, it's cheap. I'm not nearly as stylish as Tracy, but her blog gives me hope. I have seen several things on her blog that I just have to have. I saw an amazing shirt on her site, and then almost cried when Conversation Pieces had sold out of my size. She's like my own personal Stacey and Clinton (but she doesn't make fun of my wardrobe!).

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

MTV has a couple of shows devoted to teenage mothers: 16 and Pregnant and the aptly named Teen Mom. Some people are afraid that these shows glamorize being a teen mom, and will make girls want to get pregnant. I don't really know if that is a valid concern, but in case you meet a teen with baby dreams, I ask that you direct them to the following:

Chronicles of a Pukey Baby

8:00 pm - The Peanut drinks a bottle. All is well with the world.

10:30 pm - The Peanut is happily playing in his Jumperoo, when all of the sudden: vomit volcano. The Jumperoo, the carpet, the dog, the baby, and everything within a five foot radius is covered in baby barf. He continued to jump while barfing for maximum distance.

10:30 and 30 seconds pm - Parental freak out. The Hubs decides to clean up the carpet while I handle the sick baby. He's trying to act like he's doing me a solid, but I know he's just afraid Mt. Vomsuvius will erupt again.

10:32 pm - The Peanut is laughing and smiling as I change him out of his puke wear, oblivious to the fact that he just emptied the contents of his stomach and smells like sour milk. I decide to put him in the tub.

10:40 pm - The Peanut is squealing and throwing his rubber duckie against the bathroom wall. Mommy is perplexed.

11:05 pm - The Peanut falls asleep in my arms with a smile on his face.

12:00 am - I finally convince myself that he won't choke on his vomit in his sleep, and put him in his crib.

3:00 am - Finally fall asleep after three hours of checking on the baby and having a spazz attack every time I hear a noise on the baby monitor.

5:00 am - The Peanut wakes up, and he's hungry. Do I give him a bottle? Some Pedialyte (aka baby Gatorade)? I decide to just give him a bottle, which he takes happily. He then plays on the floor while I fight to stay awake.

5:50 am - The Peanut rolls over on his tummy, lifts up his head, and barfs all over the floor. He then goes back to playing with his toys.

5:51 am - I'm crying. I'm a horrible mother for giving him more formula. He's going to dehydrate and have to go to the hospital and it's all my fault. I wake up The Hubs and make him clean the carpet again while I strip the baby. Decide to leave him in his diaper. He laughs and plays, oblivious to the fact that he is dying and it's his stupid mother's fault.

6:00 am - Wrapped in my Snuggie, crying. Not even the glorious microplush can comfort me. I think all of these tears have something to do with the fact that I am sleep deprived.

8:00 am - The grandmothers have heard about the sickness. My mother-in-law stays sane and recommends I give him Pedialyte. My mother is convinced he has H1N1. I try to explain that not only was he vaccinated for H1N1, he actually has no symptoms of H1N1. She remains undaunted.

9:30 am - The Peanut drinks some Pedialyte without barfing. Success!

11:00 am - I inform The Hubs that I am taking a nap.

11:30 am - By this point, Hubs has come into the bedroom THREE TIMES to ask me stupid questions that COULD WAIT UNTIL I HAVE HAD SOME FRICKING SLEEP!

11:31 am - I may or may not have screamed "I AM NOT HERE! I DO NOT EXIST! PRETEND I HAVE DIED FOR THE NEXT FOUR HOURS!" at my husband. Oops.

3:30 pm - The Peanut has had more liquids without puking, and my dehydration fears are starting to be put to rest.

9:00 pm - THE TEST: We give him a real bottle.

12:00 am - Contents of bottle have stayed where they belong. No more pukies!

Ok, 16 year olds, still want a baby? Keep in mind that you probably don't have a nice husband who will clean up puke.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Life has just exploded in my face. Work, home, work, work, baby, work, husband, work. I haven't responded to my comments. I haven't left comments on the blogs I've read. I haven't tweeted in I don't know how long. If you wonder where my blog title comes from? This is it.

However, due to the crap ton of snow being dumped on the midwest, I am "working at home," which means I can steal a few minutes to do bloggy-type things. Since I am working at home, I thought it would be great to blog about working at home, and why it is both awesome and awful.

Reasons why working at home is awesome:

I work without the constant knocks on my office door. I get a lot of questions throughout the day about things that aren't my job, which is annoying. I don't enjoy showing the same co-worker how to use the copier eleventy billion times. And, FYI, I am horrible with numbers, so you probably don't want to ask me accounting questions - or ask me how to use your accounting software. My idea of accounting software is Microsoft Excel and my computer's calculator.

I get to stay home with The Peanut, which is awesome.

Three words: working in pajamas.

I'm generally a fan of anything that keeps me from going out in the cold.

I can work at my own pace, with minimal interruption. I get to be super-productive, and look like a rock star when I come back to the office with all of my tasks completed.

Things that are awful about working at home:

The Hubs doesn't seem to understand that "work at home" means that I actually have to WORK while AT HOME. It does not mean that I have time to clean the whole house and iron his shirts.

I get to stay home with The Peanut, which means I have to take care of him all day. It's great when he's napping, but if he is fussy it's a mess. And listening to The Wiggles and Yo Gabba Gabba makes it difficult to concentrate - those Yo Gabba Gabba songs get stuck in your head for days ("Please. Don't. Throw things at friends. Please don't throw things at friends!").

The second I get settled into my work station (recliner), the demands start - the dog, the phone, the baby. I sit down and it happens all over again.

TEMPTATION - Internet, television, junk food. I have to resist the urge to say "eff it" and watch Project Runway reruns while stuffing my face with Cosmic Brownies. Oh! And that whole being in your jammies thing makes it very tempting to take a nap.

I have to get things done, or my boss will question whether letting me work at home is a good idea.

Monday, February 1, 2010

If there is one thing I hate, it's people who get all holier-than-thou about not watching television. Let me be clear, I don't have a problem with people who don't watch television. I don't understand your kind, but I respect you. We're cool. The people I can't stand are the ones who act like they deserve a freaking medal because they don't know who McSteamy and McDreamy are. They feel they are 50 times more intelligent than the rest of the world because they have never seen Tabatha take over a salon (their loss, I say). An annoying subspecies of this breed is the person who will tell you, "I only watch _______," filling in the blank with a network they think will make them sound smart (PBS, NatGeo, The History Channel). Whatever. I think these people are up late at night, secretly watching reruns of For the Love of Ray J and hating themselves.

I love television. I'm not in front of the tube 24-7, but TV is one of my preferred methods of winding down at the end of the day. Television is also social for me; I love watching the shows my friends are watching and talking about them together (or possibly manically texting during the show). So I present for you, my lovely bloggy friends, what I am watching at the moment.

The Bachelor: On the Wings of Love

Featuring the adorable pilot Jake, and a plethora of crazy women. Jake may be my favorite Bachelor to date, because he calls the women on their game playing. He sent crazy Michelle home early for being crazy, and didn't give Elizabeth a rose because of her stupid game-playing. If the spoilers are true, however, Jake loses a few points for choosing a girl I didn't like. If these guys would just listen to me, things would go much better for them.

Jersey Shore

You either love it or you hate it, and I love it. This show is technically over, but MTV is rerunning it all time. I expected the cast members to be annoying, but they ended up being incredibly likable, and able to laugh at themselves. GTL will live forever in my heart. Fist pump.

American Idol

I can't quit you, American Idol (although I might once you take away my Simon). The audition rounds are going on right now, and there has been an array of guest judges. Some have been awesome (Neil Patrick Harris, Mary J. Blige, Posh Spice), and some have been useless (I'm looking at you Avril Lavigne and Joe Jonas). I'm looking forward to the Hollywood round, which for some reason is my favorite part of the show.

America's Best Dance Crew

I love the dancing, I love the music. But most of all, I love JC Chasez. Omarion is taking the place of Shane Sparks this season, and so far, he hasn't impressed me (but unlike Sparks, he hasn't been charged with child molestation, which is a plus). I loved B2K, Omarion. Don't let me down.

Friday, January 29, 2010

I work for a non-profit organization. I love my job, but it comes with its own challenges.

Non-profits have find ways to make money, and mine does so by holding events. People pay to come to these events, thereby raising money for our organization. One of my multitude of responsibilities as "Executive Director" is to plan these events. We have one coming up in February.

Here is an illustration of how things are going right now:

That would be work trying to eat me.

Then, The Peanut got sick. My life started to look more like this:

This is my sick baby and work both trying to eat me.

So yeah, I have been a little overwhelmed lately.

The upside is that I have also been overwhelmed in a good way! I've been overwhelmed by all of the love this little blog has received. First of all, thank you for your comments on my post about the scary uber-mommies. We didn't make it to Book Babies this week because The Peanut was sick, but next week I will be thinking of what you guys said, and laughing at them. On the inside, of course.

I am also so excited for the new visitors I have received, who have read and made comments on my humble little blog. You make my day!

Finally, I am especially overwhelmed to have won two awards from two great bloggers.

Thank you also to Hutch from Be Awesome Instead (which is probably the best blog name ever) for these awards:

I want to pass on the love to some of my favorite nostalgia bloggers who are always reminding me of the books and shows I loved as a kid: Sadako @ Dibbly Fresh, Nikki @ Are You There Youth? It's Me, Nikki, and Amber @ nostomanic. I also wanted to share the love with Michelle @ Desultory Diversions, who is an awesome blogger, commenter, and Twitter buddy. Speaking of Twitter? I would love to Tweet with you! You can follow me at @ISuck_AtThis.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Recently, Kim at Perfectly Cursed Life (go read her!) wrote about going back to school, and the feelings of insecurity that went along with it. She closed with a question: How do you underestimate yourself?

The answer was easy for me. Book Babies. What is Book Babies? It's the story time group I take The Peanut to once a week. And the moms there freak me out.

I consider myself to be a pretty good mom. The Peanut is healthy, happy, and our doctor closes each check-up with "he's perfect." So I'm doing ok. But the Book Babies moms are a whole different breed of mom, and they make me feel like an idiot.

They drive mini-vans. They make their own baby food. They buy organic cotton environmentally friendly clothes for their children. Their kids have names like Phoenix and Heighlyie (that is how uber-mommies spell "Haley"). They all have this air of confidence, whether they are first-timers or repeat offenders. They just seem to KNOW that they are good moms; in fact, being a good mom seems to be their entire life.

Then you have me. Here's a little secret: I don't know what the hell I am doing. I've read all the books, I've taken the classes - I still have no effing clue. I still feel like a kid myself, and here I am trying to raise a kid. I am doing the best I can, which means sometimes I make mistakes. I learn something new about being a mom every day, and so far The Peanut has come out all right.

I drive a Sedan. Gerber makes our baby food. I buy my son's clothes at Walmart and Target, and his name is a regular name, spelled the regular way. When I get together with The Bestie, who is also a mommy, we usually aren't talking about chlorine-free diapers or "attachment parenting" - we're talking about the shoes we just bought, or "Keeping Up With the Kardashians."

My son is my whole life, but at the same time, he's NOT my whole life. Sometimes I wonder if that makes me a bad mom, but I think it actually makes me a better mom. My hope is that, because I haven't built all of my interests around him, I will be able to give him the space he needs to develop into his own person. I think that will be more beneficial to him than all of the homemade baby food in the world.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

*It's been Debbie Downerville here lately. I apologize. January has been rough on me.*

It was the perfect day to stay in your pajamas. There was a foot of snow on the ground, so why bother to get up and get dressed? I looked forward to doing nothing all day.

Then the call came. Dad was gone. Heart attack. Died instantly.

No. I just talked to him last night. This couldn't have happened. But it did.

I remember everything that happened in those following moments perfectly. It is a movie I have watched in my head a thousand times. I called the Bestie. I took a shower. I was numb, in shock.

I miss the numbness. It was replaced with a pain, not a sharp one, but a dull ache, right in the deepest part of my heart. For a long time, I felt the ache every day. Now it's only sometimes, but it's deeper, harder. He is really gone. Really, really. And I miss him so much.

It's a part of life. It happens to all of us. Our parents die. But when it happens to you, it's totally foreign. You've been dropped into a land where you don't know the customs or speak the language. You have no idea what to do, or how you are supposed to move forward. No one can prepare you for it. It will never feel normal to be choosing your father's casket.

It's been a year today. The longest and shortest year of my life. I lost a father and gained a son. I have experienced deep sadness and great happiness. But every moment of happiness had a hint of sadness with it, because Dad wasn't here to share it. I wonder when that will go away. I suspect, never.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Date rape is not something to which a woman "overreacts." If it has happened to you, you have the right to your feelings. If things that remind you of that incident are upsetting to you, that is NORMAL. That is not you being an oversensitive bitch.

Monday, January 11, 2010

1. list 10 things that make me happy, and do at least one today2. tag 10 bloggers that brighten my day3. link back to my awarder

So the ten things that make me happy are:

1. The Hubs2. The Peanut3. Vitamin Water!4. Talking to my mom5. Hanging out with The Bestie6. Crocheting7. Clearance rack shopping8. Jersey Shore9. Nostalgia blogs - especially book blogs!10. Getting under the covers with a good book

If you are on my blogroll, consider yourself a recipient of this award. All of the blogs I read make me smile, laugh, or cry every day!

A couple of weeks ago I started Project Healthy, my attempt at making some real and lasting lifestyle changes. I kicked off Project Healthy with giving up my greatest love: soda.

I am proud to say that since I started the project, I have not had one soda! In the morning I have a cup of coffee to get my caffeine kick, and during the day I drink water. When I want something sweet to drink, I have a Vitamin Water. Can I say how much I love Vitamin Water? There have been several times I was about to cave in to my craving and drink a soda, and Vitamin Water saved me. When we go out to eat I will sometimes will treat myself and have a sweet tea, but NO SODA!

My next task was going to be giving up beef, but after my success with soda, I felt empowered. I wanted to tackle one of my bigger demons. So starting today: DAILY EXERCISE!

I am a Taurus. I am lazy by nature. Growing up I was an avid ballet dancer, taking classes five times a week. Since then, I have been an avid couch potato. All of my attempts to incorporate exercise into my life have failed. The sad part is, I feel GREAT when I exercise. I have more energy to get through the day. It's the actually getting up and doing it that I have problems with.

My goal is to do SOMETHING every day. We have lots of workout programs on our OnDemand, so I am starting there. The minimum I can do each day is something from the "10 Minute Workouts" section. My goal is to make it through Jillian Michaels' 58 minute Metabolism Boost workout without dying.

The beautiful and talented wishcake has a feature called Work It Out Weekends. I will be joining in on this as well. I am all about encouragement and accountability! If you are getting healthy in 2010, you should do the same!

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Yesterday was a horrible day. I had a bad day, and everyone I know had a bad day. Everyone I love seems to be dealing with illness or broken relationships. I tried to post yesterday, but I was just too down - it hurt too much to put all those emotions into writing.

Well, it's a new day. Time for some smiles and laughter! I can't control the circumstances, but I can control my outlook. LiLu has a great feature at her blog called TMI Thursday - a chance to overshare and make fun of yourself (or others). This is my first TMI Thursday submission - what no one ever told me about being pregnant.

I was about eight months pregnant, and HUGE. I looked like I had stolen a basketball and hid it under my shirt. Life was generally uncomfortable, and I had to pee about 80092834 times a day. A couple of my friends had told me that while, they were pregnant, the baby rolled onto their bladder in the night, and they had ended up wetting the bed. I was so glad this hadn't happened to me.

One day, I came home from work, and the first thing I did (after going to the bathroom, of course) was change into my pjs. While changing I realized that something smelled like pee. Upon further examination, I realized that the smell was coming from the crotch of my pants. Uh, what? I hadn't peed my pants, and I hadn't peed ON my pants...why did my pants smell like pee? I checked out my undies, and yes, they were a little damp, but that was normal right? All my pregnancy books went into far too much detail about discharge and other disgustingness. I am ashamed to admit what I did next: I smelled my panties. OMG PEE SMELL! I finally put the pieces of the puzzle together.

IT WAS ME. I WAS THE PEE SMELL. No, I hadn't full on wet myself. But, the pressure of the baby on my bladder was making me leak urine. I was walking around smelling like pee all day, not even realizing it. I went to the hamper (or possibly a pile on the floor) and dug out the previous day's pants. PEE SMELL. HOW LONG HAD I BEEN WALKING AROUND SMELLING LIKE URINE? WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME I SMELLED LIKE PEE?

For the rest of my pregnancy, I took precautions to prevent smelling like a dirty bathroom. I am still to embarrassed to ask any of my friends if they ever noticed my scent issues.

(With all the urine and underwear-smelling, I can only imagine the Google Search Results I'll be appearing in now.)

Sunday, January 3, 2010

New Year's Eve was fun. I attended a party at the home of The Bestie (and Mr. Bestie). I had a great time, and ended up leaving around 3am.

It was snowing and slick, so I was driving slow. I stopped at a stop sign, and then proceeded on my way. Right after that, there they were, the red and blue flashing lights of the city's finest. I wasn't sure what I had done, but of course I pulled over.

Turns out? The officer was suspicious because I was driving slowly and I came to a complete stop at the stop sign. Let's examine that: he was suspicious because I was driving safely. He was sure I had been drinking and was overcompensating. I assured him that I hadn't been drinking, but was more than happy to consent to any test he wanted me to perform. On the inside, I was praying he didn't ask me to say the alphabet backwards, because I can't do that sober.

He had me take a breathalyzer test, and wonder of wonders, I blew a 0.00! I tried my hardest not to be smug. The officer was apologetic, explaining that they are extra vigilant with it being New Year's Eve, etc. I assured him it was no problem, which it wasn't, but really? I kind of thought he needed to focus on people who were driving recklessly (you know, like drunk people do) and not worry about the people who are OBEYING TRAFFIC LAWS AND BEING CAUTIOUS. I'm just saying. I'm not one to tell someone else how to do their job (especially when their job involves carrying firearms), so I kept my thoughts to myself.

Friday, January 1, 2010

I had all kinds of things to blog about today - New Year's resolutions, getting pulled over for driving the speed limit, but all of those things will have to wait because nostomanic gave me this:

I am very honored, especially since the point of this blog is to be a Better Blogger than I have been in the past. Thank you so much to Amber!

Alas, I cannot simply bask in the glory of my win, because this award came with rules! They are as follows:

1) Thank the person who nominated me for this award.

2) Copy the award & place it on my blog.

3) Link to the person who nominated me for this award.

4) Tell us 7 interesting things about yourself.

5) Nominate 7 bloggers.

6) Post links to the 7 blogs I nominate.

First, seven things about me:

1. I don't drink alcohol. There is no real moral or ethical reason for this, I just don't like it that much. I used to drink all the time (we call that college!), but now I don't really enjoy the taste of most alcoholic beverages. This isn't a hard and fast rule, if I want a drink, I'll have one. But 99% of the time I just don't want to drink. However, right now I would give my left arm for a can of delicious soda. Damn healthy lifestyle changes.

2. I can't do a cartwheel. It doesn't matter much now, but it was the source of much embarrassment when I was in elementary school.

3. Most embarrassing DVD in my collection: Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. Which I also saw in the theater. Twice.

4. The first crush I remember having was on Freddy from Scooby-Doo. I don't know how that would have worked.

5. I don't own an ipod. I probably won't until about five minutes before they are outdated.

6. I was all about not having an epidural when I had my son. Until I actually went into labor. I LOVE YOU EPIDURAL YOU'RE MY BFF!

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Who sucks?

I'm hopelessly addicted to pop music and reality television. I am a sometimes adoring wife to my husband, and before the year is out I'll be a mom to two kids under two. So basically, I'm crazy. Throw in a full-time job and a blog, and well...sometimes things get messy. Stick around for the train wreck! Email me at ireallysuckatthis {at} gmail {dot} com.